Page 53 of The Cerise

I let her guide us to our seats at a long table near the front of the room. Just like at lunch, I’m the last to arrive but no one besides Vidya seems to notice. The Crown’s guests—everyone who survived last night’s assault, plus Bash’s Ladies—drink and mingle as if today were just another Tuesday in the castle. Even Jinx, who prattles on about how she’s glad I’m at her table and not at Raven’s, lacks somberness to her demeanor.

Seven tables are assembled in the shape of a U, with King Travers and Bash at the front with the other six running the room’s length. I’m seated beside Jinx and Victoria, who likes to go by Tori. Across from us, at a table on the other end of the room, are Raven, Tamia, and Andra. Having been the first chosen for a date, she’s placed closest to Bash. From the daggers the other girls are throwing with their eyes I’m not the only one with an opinion about our seating arrangements.

But what can we do?

Vidya made our place settings and only a fool with a death wish would rearrange them.

Besides, I think Andra would stab someone with her fork before letting one of the ladies take her spot. She, out of all of us, has been chosen to be at the prince’s side. It’s an indication of our next queen…or so I’m sure the whispers will sing.

And it’s not like someone can sit across from her. Vidya has seated everyone on one side of the tables, forcing us to look across the room to see each other and only talk to the people to our left and right. It's a deliberate measure, a subtle indication that something nefarious transpired last night. No one can get hurt if we're socially distanced, physically separated by the width of the grand hall. The guards stationed at precise intervals along the perimeter also act as formidable sentinels, complementing the watchful eyes of our assigned babysitters. The safety measures create an illusion of security but the buzzing sensation of danger persists, setting my nerves on edge.

King Travers’s entrance punctuates the chatter. As he stands at the head of the table, a hush falls over the room. “Good evening, and let me officially welcome you to the Culling. In just a few short weeks, we will welcome one of you beautiful ladies into our family.”

Jinx squeezes my hand and smiles brightly. The other ladies sit upright, showing pride at having made it this far and confidence in their position. I shift in my seat and try to make my leg stop bouncing. My magic is so on edge there’s a metallic aftertaste to each inhale I take. I keep my gaze on the king; to look away would be disrespectful, but I send my webs into the room. Maybe they can find what has me on edge tonight.

“This will be the only time we are all together. The first elimination is hot on our heels, so I’d like to propose a toast of good fortune and wish the Ladies of Prince Sebastian’s court good luck.” King Travers raises his glass and everyone in the room does the same.

I bring the thick red wine to my lips, but don’t allow it on my tongue. The likelihood of someone poisoning it twice is slim, but Chance isn’t a goddess I foolhardily dance with. I dab my mouth with the edge of my napkin and then set it in my lap as servers deliver pre-portioned plates to us. Tonight’s dinner looks like quail with mashed potatoes and beans. My stomach growls, finally hungry again, but the warning in my blood is too strong to ignore. I cut my food and push it around the table hoping that, like at breakfast, no one notices I’m not actually eating.

Riot is stationed behind me, while Graves and another man stand on duty at the corners of the royal table. They’re supposed to watch everyone and no one at once, but Graves’s eyes stray to me every few minutes. I shift again, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. His eyes feel like fingers touching places they don’t belong, tempting my dark thoughts to pull me back into the past.

My hands shake so much that I stop trying to eat and clasp them in my lap. A new sensation trickles into my webs—concern and anger—and there’s only one person whose emotions I can undeniably sense. I’m not surprised to hear Riot’s gruff growl behind me, but his question shocks me.

“Is there a problem, Commander?” Riot asks loud enough that everyone at our table, and the royal table, can hear.

“Mind your tone, soldier,” Graves orders without looking at Riot.

“I’ll remember my place so long as you remember yours.” The air crackles with tension as Riot's eyes lock onto Graves’s, an unspoken threat lingering in the pregnant pause like a storm about to break.

“You got something to say, boy?”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I blurt too loudly, the words stumbling over each other in my haste to deflect the building confrontation. Raven snickers from across the room as I stand, holding onto as much composure as I can muster.

Riot, not having any choice, escorts me out of the ballroom. As we walk, the echoes of distant laughter and clinking glasses fade into the background, drowned out by the palpable tension between us.

I don’t understand Riot’s motives. He’s a hunter. I’m a Cerise. How Graves looks at me, or what he walked in on last night, shouldn’t matter. The venomous way he addressed the commander can’t fall under the blanket of Bash’s orders. What happened in there, the pure hatred he felt, is something different.

“What do you think you’re doing?" I scold when we finally find a secluded spot away from prying eyes and ears. Riot's intense gaze meets mine and there's a flicker of defiance in his eyes.

“I don’t like how he was looking at you,” he grumbles, a low growl underscoring his words.

I sigh, frustration simmering. Graves is my problem, my responsibility. I don’t want Riot or anyone else stepping in and robbing me of the justice I will take… sooner or later. "Do me a favor and don’t worry about me or Graves. I can handle him."

Dim light casts shadows on the corridor walls, mirroring the conflict playing out between us. The silence that follows is thick with unspoken words and I can feel the weight of Riot’s concern pressing against my webs. I don’t know why I can feel his emotions when we’re close, but I don’t like it. His feelings cloud my own. I need to get away from him and clear my head. I don’t know where I’m going, I just need to go.

“Khiara.” Riot grabs my wrist and I can’t stop the heat that rushes through me.

My magic, usually controlled within the walls I’ve built, rebels against my restraint, bursting forth in a searing flash that throws Riot backward. The fiery hue of my power lingers at the edge of my vision as I step towardhim, my heart pounding in tandem with the residual energy that crackles in the air.

Riot watches me with an intensity that feels both dangerous and magnetic, like a predator sizing up his prey, ready to strike. I stand there, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions swirls within me—fear, attraction, defiance—all blending into a complex tapestry of desire and danger. There’s no denying what I am now. He knows I’m a Daughter of Legend, a creature he’s duty-bound to kill.

A Cerise.

“Take a deep breath, Khiara.” Riot holds out his hand, keeping an arm’s length between us as he stands.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I growl.

I watch Riot’s hands, waiting for them to reach for his weapons. My heart races and the adrenaline fueling my anger spikes as it mixes with fear.

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